


mare languorem

by VolunteerFieryDantooinian



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Existentialist Delirium, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Character Death, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Vox Machina, Pneumonia, Sickfic, Whump, but not real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-19 12:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14237661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolunteerFieryDantooinian/pseuds/VolunteerFieryDantooinian
Summary: Fjord’s patronage catches up to him.





	mare languorem

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know way you thought!

Fjord was used to not being able to breathe; it was sort of his job description. But there became a point where that was starting to get more than a little bit inconvenient. 

The persistent ache in his chest had started the day they broke into the High Richter's house, around the time he had pulled his falchion on Caleb, and it hadn't gone away since. He had tried to hide it, stood in front of the mirror for 10 minutes trying to determine whether he was hurt. It seemed to be his lungs, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to why that was. He really hoped he was wrong, but as time went on, he proved himself right.

A cough caught in his chest as he and the team finally managed to trudge their way back to the Leaky Tap, which brought a sense of relief to him after the events of the past few days. He ignored the weighty, painful wheeze in his breathing as he strode through the door as calmly as possible and sat back in a chair, casting his eyes down. Mollymauk took a seat next to him, occasionally giving him a glance but otherwise paying him no mind. Fjord closed his eyes. 

This, now, this was a kind of exhausted he wasn't too keen on. It was usually how he felt right after one of his dreams, or right before he'd get sick. Not that he got sick often, but everyone did sometimes. He didn't feel too sick, though, not really. He was just bone tired and shaky and he couldn't breathe right. A harsh, hacking cough shuddered through him, and he tried the best he could to muffle it, but Molly looked over at him anyway. 

"You've been coughing a lot the past day or so. You feeling alright?" A flicker of worry ghosted across his face and then vanished. 

"Yeah, I'm alright," Fjord said, regretting speaking because of how rough his voice sounded. Breathing in and of itself hurt as well, the rise and fall of his chest causing his lungs to twinge with electric heat. He breathed through his nose so it was harder to hear the way that every breath wheezed.

"If you say so, sailor," Molly frowned but didn't pry any further, ordering a drink and perusing the rest of the tavern for interesting folks to talk to. 

Fjord could breathe a little easier once he had moved, that is, he could cough as much as he needed to without hiding it. The coughs grew harsher and more frequent, and as the night went on the rest of his body was aching too. The tavern was dark, thank goodness, but the fervor and energy of the place was building a thundering headache behind his eyes. He winced, breath hissing out slowly as he leaned against his hand, rubbing his eyes. A cough jolted through him like lightning, thick and wet in his chest. Fjord felt a gentle hand brush his shoulder. 

"You should go to bed," Mollymauk said quietly. "You certainly look like you need the rest," He was somehow put together after all of this, after so much of his past had been exposed. Even after he had been truth-spelled. Fjord felt bad about what he'd said to him about the difference between him and us, especially after Molly had sobbed into his shoulder earlier in the day. He'd been absolutely overwhelmed, the poor thing, but now his fears seemed to have been assuaged by Fjord's comforting. 

"I'm sorry," Fjord said softly, a wet cough catching in his chest. 

"What are you sorry for, dear?" Molly pulled a chair up and faced Fjord, a soft look in his eyes. "If it's for what happened earlier, it's alright. We all say things we don't mean sometimes," He trailed a hand down Fjord's arm. 

"It's not al-" Fjord couldn't finish his sentence before he started to cough, hands trembling violently. He felt dizzy, dizzy enough to brace himself heavily against the table. 

"Whoa, whoa, okay, take a deep breath," Molly steadied him, setting his soft hands on his shoulders. "Are you hurt?" His words were punctuated by the sharp sounds of Fjord's coughs. He pressed a quick hand to Fjord's forehead, noticing how bad he was shivering. "Oh, you've got one hell of a fever," His voice softened. "We need to get you to bed." Mollymauk gently helped Fjord to his feet. 

"No, no, Molly, I'm fine.." He mumbled, watching the others and trying to make sure they didn't notice the scene going on. No one seemed to notice for now. He preferred to keep this between him and his roommate, just for now. If he was really that ill, then of course the others could come in, but right now he couldn't take that much attention. 

"Like hell you are," Molly scowled, helping him upstairs as slowly as he could. Fjord dizzily tried to pull away and ended up nearly falling. "No, you're going to bed," Mollymauk helped him the rest of the way up the stairs and into their room. 

"I'm alrigh', I swear.." Fjord's voice slurred, his accent growing thicker and almost slipping into the real thing as he swayed. He was trembling hard, growing shakier with every cough that forced itself out of him. 

"Fjord?"

He blacked out. 

 

 

 

 Fjord woke up in the pouring rain. He didn't remember how he'd gotten here, or why he was here in the first place. His whole body was shaking and he was freezing cold. 

Suddenly, there was a man standing in front of him, looking thoroughly drowned. His once-beautiful face was festered and invaded by barnacles. Fjord didn't recognize him, but when his yellow eyes flickered up, he knew precisely where he'd seen him. 

"Watching." His voice echoed through a thousand planes, enough to make Fjord feel like his bones were going to shatter apart. Then his form flickered apart, and a different man was standing there, this time a half-elf with shoulder length black hair. He smiled sadly, but said nothing. There was golden light wrapped loosely around his neck. His form flickered as well, and shattered apart. Then the pieces morphed into a figure cloaked in green, and a warm laugh echoed through the darkness. Then that shattered too. There was nothing now. Everything hurt- there was something terrifyingly cold about the air, about how his lungs refused to work. In, out, in, out-

The rhythm matched up as the scene changed. Fjord, lying on a beach with the skies black around him. Beauregard had her hands braced against his chest, and the rest of the party stood in an anxious semicircle. Everything was silent.

Then Fjord, being pulled underwater by something he didn't know, something he couldn't know- 

 

 _What are you running from?_ A voice echoed out in his dreams, an unfamiliar voice with a soft tone to it. 

 _I don't know,_ Fjord said in return, not out loud, but the words echoed through him anyway. 

 _You'd best figure it out._ The voice hissed, and then Fjord was swimming in darkness. The darkness seemed to fill every inch of him, the thick cold of it choking him-

Fjord woke up with a hoarse, terrified scream, trying to push himself into a sitting position but finding himself too weak. He was cold and shaky, and he coughed hard enough to make his ribs cry out in pain. 

"Shhh, dear. You need to put that energy towards getting better," Mollymauk touched a hand to his forehead. "Gods, we need to bring that fever down," He frowned deeply, taking one of his hands as he sat on the edge of his bed. Molly pressed a warm, dry kiss to his cheek, cupping Fjord's face in his hands as he did so.  "Everything is going to be fine," He said softly. He believed him.

 

Fjord was unconscious again, he knew that this time. Maybe this time he could change something, keep himself from seeing his patron again. This time, though, he was underwater. Instead of drowning, he drowned in memories. Images flashed by.

_-Mollymauk, sobbing into his shoulder as the world fell apart around the two of them. Fjord told him it was going to be alright, even though he figured he was wrong. Carrying him upstairs after he'd been drinking to forget what someone else hadn't.-_

_-Caleb, badly burned and bleeding in his arms. He forces the healing potion down his throat and feels hopelessly guilty when he thinks about how he had pulled the falchion on him. Feels hopelessly guilty when he sees the fear in the man's eyes as he sees the fire all around them.-_

_-Jester. She holds his hand in Port Damali, the softness in her eyes taking over everything else when she asks him if he's alright, then she asks if he's turning into water after the nightmare. He laughs, doesn't know the answer. He's terrified.-_

_-Beauregard, the way she swore when the 3 crossbow bolts thudded into Caleb's chest, the terror present in her when Nott was bleeding profusely from the bite of the manticore. Her emotions shone through the cracks in her soul.-_

_-Nott, the defense heavy and painful in her voice when she called Caleb her boy. How she'd sounded when she said she needed Caleb to save her. The harsh edges to her voice that hid a lifetime of fear and judgement.-_

_-Yasha, screaming as the spider bit into her collarbone, then flexed off the poison without flinching. The way she looked at Beau when the monk wasn't looking, the softness that crept through her. Her gentleness with Molly in the moment he needed it most.-_

 

 

  _What are you afraid of?_ His patron's voice echoed through his dreams. 

 _Losing them,_ He responded with candor in his voice. More images. 

_Mollymauk, wrists slit in a bathtub, scimitars glowing in his hands. Caleb, bleeding out in a heap on the floor. Jester, lifeless and gray, lying on the floor with her eyes open. Beauregard, a spear through her stomach, choking on her words as she looks at someone with terror in her eyes. Nott, small and broken, shackled in a dank jail cell. Yasha, underwater in a storm-sundered sea, motionless._

_. . ._

Briefly, Fjord surfaced, coughing like a dying man, his entire body clammy and freezing. Someone's warm hands were clutching his face, stroking his hair. It hurt too much for him to handle, salt coating his lips and lungs. Then he was pushed under again, back into the riptide of his dreams.

_What are you afraid of?_

The voice echoed again. Fjord didn't answer this time. He hoped if he was silent long enough, it would leave him. After what seemed like an eternity of gut-wrenching silence, he had to speak.

 _Loving them._ His voice trembled and broke, the softness of his real voice shining through. 

 

 

Fjord came to consciousness slowly.  

"Molly," He said softly, voice hoarse and painful. His chest tightened with emotional and physical ache, and he coughed heavily.

"What's wrong, darling?" Mollymauk's gentle voice came from somewhere beside him. He looked around and met his nebulous red eyes. Fjord remembered his dreams and didn't realize he was in tears until he was silently shaking, tears dripping hot from his eyes. "Oh, dear, what's happened? I'm right here," His voice took on the softest tone he'd heard from anyone lately. He sat on the bed beside Fjord, gently running a thumb under his eye to wipe the tears away. "Sweetheart, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong," Molly said. Fjord shook his head, eyes darkening. He didn't know either. "Can I touch you? Is that alright?" He asked, his voice quiet. Fjord nodded. 

Mollymauk crossed to the other side of the bed and sat down, taking Fjord's hand, rubbing his thumb along the base of his palm. 

"Don't leave," Fjord managed. 

"I wasn't planning on leaving, love. I'm not leaving until you're better, hell, I'm not leaving at all unless you want me to," Mollymauk pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. "Your fever's gotten a little better, I think. You were very ill a few hours ago, gave us all quite a fright. You get some sleep now, alright? We need you at one hundred percent," he said. Fjord knew it was true, but he didn't want to go back to sleep. 

"I-"

He tried to speak, but ended up coughing instead. Molly held him with stronger arms than he had expected, and after a time, Fjord relaxed against him.

"Shh, dear. You need to rest, and while I love your voice, sailor, speaking isn't resting," Molly soothed, and briefly brought his soft lips to his temple. He was safe, and he was here. Mollymauk smelled like lemongrass and cinnamon, not to mention something else he didn't quite recognize. It was easy enough for him to fall asleep now, even if he didn't want to. The warm weight of Mollymauk against his shoulder grounded him. As he drifted, he heard soft humming, gentle hands running through his hair. Sensations of safety.

 

Of the things he was afraid of, he wasn't quite as afraid of loving them anymore. 

 

 


End file.
